


Hard Balance

by wingeddserpent



Category: Final Fantasy XIII
Genre: Bonding, Canon Related, Character Development, Character Study, Drugs, Families of Choice, Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-30
Updated: 2011-04-30
Packaged: 2017-10-18 19:56:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/192666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingeddserpent/pseuds/wingeddserpent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Getting to know someone is never an easy road, even when you're not trying to save the world.</p><p>Spoilers for the entire game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [owlmoose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlmoose/gifts).



> Thanks to marmaladecat for such an awesome beta. ^^
> 
> Note: This work contains drug use.

The lines get longer and longer and his revulsion grows with them. While the Purge will get him to where he needs to go, there’s a part of him (a part of him left from when he was a child growing up in Eden) that wants to believe the Sanctum would never do something like this.

And then there’s the major part of him (the part that remembers what it felt like when they pried Dajh away) that isn’t surprised at all.

What he doesn’t expect, however, is to see Guardian Corps. This is PSICOM all the way (which surprises him even less than the Sanctum involvement), but there she is, walking proud and fast with grim determination in the set of her jaw.

“I want to be Purged,” she tells a nearby PSICOM, quiet enough that others won’t hear over the panic.

But he’s listening and he hears.

She’s like him, she's gotta be. Here not because she has to be, but because there’s something more important. Some reason.

Chocobo gives a wark and Sazh nods once. “Here we go,” he murmurs and follows her into line. For the first time since his wife died, there’s hope.

And that, at least, is something.

 

He quickly discovers that she’s nuts. What else do you call someone who goes running into the thick of danger against beasts the size of buildings wielding only a tiny little gunblade?

It’s like she doesn’t realize she's only human. She analyzes the situation with the harsh, sweeping gaze of a sharpshooter, but then goes charging in with the ferocity of a sword-wielding thug.

Sazh is pretty sure that constitutes insanity... Or sheer stupidity. After all, what sort of person analyzes the danger and then throws themselves into it?

“What’s your angle?” he asks and, for a moment, she just looks at him, face hard.

It takes all of his control not to step back. He remembers soldiers with faces like that, remembers what that entailed when he was young. But he doesn’t take a step back, he matches her gaze. She turns away from him. “The Pulse Fal’Cie. Still glad you tagged along?”

Bingo. She might be crazy, but she’s the sort of crazy that might help him save Dajh. The pink-haired soldier goes charging off, not even glancing to see if he's following, and oh boy is he following.

For his son, he can afford a little stupidity and maybe a little crazy, too.

 

Lightning’s fist collides with Snow’s face and the goes down, anger like ice burning in his eyes. Again, he gets to his feet; again, Lightning strikes him down, shaking.

“Open your eyes and face reality! It’s over!”

And he knows, oh does he know what this is, what this feels like. The biting anger coursing through your veins, the blood pounding in your ears drowning out reason. The rage because no one understands your loss, the need to lash out and make others understand.

The soldier’s scrambling to deal with sadness, and anger’s as good a substitute as anything else, especially when you’re young.

—   
_”You got a problem?” he’d asked, and the PSICOM soldier just looked at him from behind the mask and the barrel of his gun. “Well? You planning on shooting me or just taking a picture?”_

 _“Sazh, shut up,” his sister whispered, clinging to his hand._

 _The PSICOM soldier snorted. “Rats. Not even worth killing.” And he holstered his gun and walked away like he owned the street._

 _Of course, in Eden, he practically did._   
—

Sazh can recognize her anger, but he’s older now. Knows there’s nothing you can get through anger that you can’t get through sadness. Except with anger, you burn more bridges than can be counted.

The lines in his face deepen as they leave Snow behind. Regret, he’s found, burns longer and deeper than anger, and Chocobo trills.

“Yeah, yeah,” he murmurs. “We’ll figure this all out.”

Somehow, he wishes he could believe that. As though it senses his thoughts, the brand on his chest pulses making a shudder run through him.

 

At first, he’d thought she was different. Thought that because of her sister, because she was a Pulse L’Cie, just like they were, that she was different.

She felt—anger, anger, and... Well, more anger. But it was something.

Sazh had thought she’d understood. Understood pain and loss, understood what it meant to be human because her sister was so painfully human (or had been, until the crystal had settled over her skin).

“We don’t have your stamina,” he says, because him and Vanille and Hope, poor lost angry Hope, are all panting and sweaty and exhausted. “We need to rest,” he says, because it’s the truth.

Her expression hardens again, to frustration, to impatience. “You’ve got enough stamina to complain, don’t you?”

And she continues forward, like that’s that. Leaving them behind. Guardian Corps, the military _for the people_ abandons them to their fate. Cold-hearted soldier all the way through.

It’s familiar, if nothing else, but as Hope runs after her, footsteps haphazard from exhaustion, Sazh shakes his head—dammit, he’d expected better.

And he should have known better. Soldiers are all the same.


	2. Chapter 2

He hardly has time to take his bearings before she moves past him. Her face has a certain set to it, not the harsh anger he’s used to seeing, but determination.

Lightning approaches Snow and puts a hand on his arm. He doesn’t turn to look at her, looking ahead, shoulders hunched against some invisible demon. Murmuring something Sazh can’t make out, Lightning’s grip tightens until the sleeve of Snow’s coat is bunched beneath her fingers.

With a shake of his head, Snow twirls to face her and says something that makes her shoulders square. She shakes her head once and reaches out again, grasps his wrist. Her voice comes even quieter now and the wild aching look in Snow’s eyes quiets until nothing but sorrow is left. Snow lowers his head for the fraction of a second, to whisper something, and the tension leaves Lightning’s shoulders.

For an instant, Snow hesitates, arms jerking at his sides like he wants to pull Lightning into a hug and then the sorrow crumples into abject misery and he pulls himself from Lightning’s touch and walks away.

If he wasn’t a pilot and a sharpshooter, if he didn’t know how to pick out details—no matter how minute—Sazh wouldn’t notice the way her shoulders slump.

Lightning stands there for a second, caught in time, caught in her own unreadable thoughts. And then, abruptly, she turns and moves smoothly over to where Hope is curled in on himself. “Hey,” she says, “Tired?”

“A bit. I just need a couple minutes,” he answers.

She reaches out and ruffles his hair, her expression softening. “Alright,” she says and then stands.

A slow smile moves onto Sazh's face and he intercepts her before she can away. “You’ve learned a thing or two since I saw you last,” he says, and Lightning looks at him warily and waits. “It’s a good thing.”

She turns her head sharply. “I... I’m sorry for how I acted. Before. I was... There’s no excuse. Forgive me.”

Sazh reaches out and puts a hand on her shoulder. “You don’t need to apologize. I was giving you a compliment.”

Her gaze slides away from him but she nods once and then beats a quick retreat; Sazh's grin quiets to something more thoughtful.

He wonders if she sees herself in Hope.

 

In the moonlight, she looks young. Painfully so. When she’s running up ahead, slashing through soldiers like she was born for it, it’s easy to forget she’s still a newly-minted adult.

Her eyes dart to-and-fro across the terrain, across this unfamiliar land, and her hands slide her dagger open and shut. The others sleep almost soundly, a few days here on Pulse enough to stem even Hope’s anxiety. But not Lightning’s.

He doesn’t recall seeing her sleep since they’ve gotten here.

“It’s my watch,” he reminds her gently.

The dagger makes a quiet noise as she flicks the blade out. “I thought you might want some company.”

— _”Daddy, can I stay up with you?” Dajh gripped his teddy bear in a death grip. “I miss you when I’m sleeping.”_

 _Sazh frowned, looked up from his book. “You worried about the monster again?”_

 _“No. I just want to be with you,” but Dajh looked down at his feet, and Sazh knew._

 _It was the monster under the bed again. Dajh had become more and more scared of it since Elisabeth had died and she could no longer do the monster-banishing-dance. Sazh had tried it a few times, but it hurt too much to remember and, at any rate, Dajh maintained that the monsters laughed at him and didn’t run like they should._

 _“Alright, Dajh,” Sazh said, “You can stay up a little longer.”—_

Sazh grins at her. “Serah ever worry about monsters?”

Surprised by the subject change, Lightning blinks at him for a second, then shakes her head. “No. I was the one who worried—I was always afraid she’d find a monster and want to be friends.” She pauses, and her lips twitch into a smirk. “Turns out my fears weren’t unfounded. After all, she started dating Snow.”

He gives a startled laugh that’s almost loud enough to wake the others. As it is, Fang stirs and looks at them grumpily, before rolling back over and falling asleep.

“Who knew—you do have a sense of humor,” Sazh says with a grin.

Lightning glances at him and shakes her head, smile gone. “Bad humor, mostly.”

“Still something,” he shrugs, “Better than nothing, right?”

She doesn’t answer; but, she slides her dagger shut and slips it away. He figures that’s progress and sits down beside her. They look over the camp, their friends, the dying embers of the fire, and the night illuminated only by Cocoon’s light.

“Think we’ll make it?” she asks him quietly after a long pause.

For a moment, he stays silent and then he releases a heavy sigh. He reaches out and puts a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t know. I hope so. I’d like... I’d like Dajh to have a world to wake up to.”

“Right,” she says, and she looks down at the grass. “Fighting without hope is no way to live.”

It’s hollow sounding and he clasps her shoulder tighter. She pulls her dagger out again and stares at it as though it might have answers for her; he pulls away and unholsters his guns.

Silence hangs over them, and this time, no one breaks it.

 

He finds her twenty paces from camp—near enough to come to their rescue, far enough to afford some manner of privacy. Her shoulders are hunched against the viscous Gran Pulse wind and one hand rests on the hilt of her gunblade.

When she doesn’t turn immediately, weapon out and ready, he has to hide an almost grin.

Despite herself, she’s learning to trust them. Or him.

She knows they’ve got her back.

“What?” she asks, clipped. “It’s your turn to cook.”

“How’d you know it was me?” Sazh asks, arching an eyebrow.

Lightning doesn’t turn to look at him, just shakes her head. “Snow would have come bounding over here, shouting for the world to hear; Hope would have run; Vanille would be speaking her business as she walked; and Fang would have just yelled at me from camp.”

This time, he allows a chuckle to escape. Some  of the tenseness writ in her back melts away, and she looks about as relaxed as she ever does. “So, you wanna talk about it?” Her head jerks sharply, denial—whether of him or that anything requires talking about, he’s not sure—and he sighs. “Alright. I’ll bring you food when it’s ready.”

Lightning’s tense again when she nods, but he’s starting to think that maybe that means: _Thank you._

 

He only stumbles once, at the back of the group. But she’s there, at his side. Sazh winces, ready to be told to keep up or he’ll be left behind.

“Need a rest?” she asks, her voice quiet so the others won’t hear.

Small mercies indeed. Sazh looks at her a moment; her face is unreadable as ever, her eyes darting between him, the rest of their group, and the terrain they fight as much as the monsters.

With a short, humorless laugh, he says, “Nah. Still got some life in these old bones.”

When she opens her mouth, he half expects her to press the issue, but she says, “Alright,” she looks him over, once. “Let’s get moving.”

She doesn’t have to say it, but he hears it anyway—” _We don’t have much time left_.” Lightning’s out of reach by time he puts a hand out to her shoulder.

A voice that sounds something like Vanille’s mocks him in his head, _Too slow, old man._


	3. Chapter 3

“Lightning.”

She stops mid-stride, tensing. “What?”

“You can’t just avoid it,” he says. “If you don’t start sleeping, it’s gonna to happen more often.”

“I don’t need a lecture,” she snaps and she starts walking again.

Sazh looks up at the vast Gran Pulsian sky and shakes his head. “Apparently you do. You collapsed in the middle of a fight yesterday and we couldn’t wake you up. When was the last time you slept?”

Not bothering to look at him, she says, “Yesterday.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“So say what you mean,” her hands tighten to fists at her sides. “The Whitewood. Happy now?”

Sazh finally catches up to her. “You collapsed then too, didn’t you?”

“That what Hope said?” and there’s a sting of raw betrayal in her voice, like concern for her well-being is some sort of sin.

“Don’t blame the kid,” he says, “Lightning, you need to sleep. Frankly, I don’t know how you went so long without.”

Finally, she stops and twirls to face him. “Let it go, Sazh. I don’t need you babying me.”

“We need you functioning and whole, not collapsing and exhausted. You’re strung tight. Anxious, jittery. You make mistakes,” he reaches out and she avoids his touch.

“I do not,” she snaps. “I’m fine.”

Sazh shakes his head. “The others might not notice, but I know how it works. Your aim’s off, been getting worse and worse. If we asked Fang or Snow, they’d probably say your blade work’s been off too. You’re getting sloppy.”

 _“I’m not.”_

“Saying something doesn’t make it true,” he tells her. “We need you, Lightning. Like it or not, we follow you. And your example. Hope especially.”

She flinches, like he’s burned her. “ _Don’t_.”

“Hard, isn’t it? To realize what you do affects others? That you’re not just your own person?”

He takes a step closer, and she meets his gaze. “I’m fine,” she says.

“You’re lying,” he replies. “You’re not a superhero. You need sleep, same as everyone else.”

“I’m going to bathe. I suggest you don’t follow me,” she snaps and then leaves.

And Sazh just sighs and watches her go. What else can he do?

 

“Here.”

He blinks at the tiny pill bottle suddenly pushed into his hands. Quickly examining it, it all clicks. Military Issue Energy pills.

“You giving them up?” Sazh asks, “Or just showing me these?”

Lightning looks away, and then looks back at him. She sits beside him, close enough he can feel the warmth radiating from her. “Regulating. I... I started taking them when I was young.” Her voice is strained with the admission of being less than strong, of being less than perfect.

“How bad?” he asks.

“Bottle every week,” she murmurs. “I’ve been getting them through the pharmacy.”

He’s silent for a moment—damn, but he remembers what it’s like. To try and replace sleep with these things. Pilots do it sometimes, when they have to. But only the crazy ones try to stop sleeping altogether. “Your withdrawal’s gonna be bad.”

“Been through it before. When I left the Academy. It was for Serah,” Lightning bows her head.

“You and I both know you can just buy more,” he says, “What’s the point in giving me these? You trying to prove something?”

She looks at him sharply. “No. I’m not going cold turkey. You were right—you need me in top form. But... I’m going to do what I can. I can handle that much. I’m giving them to you because...” Lightning trails off and glances back to where the rest of their group is happily watching Snow cook.

“I won’t tell anyone,” he reassures.

He feels her relief in the loosening of her shoulders. “I’ll ask for one or two when I need it. After this is over... I’ll be able to afford the full consequences of my dependency.”

“Why’d you start again?” he asks. “Never took you for someone to make the same mistake twice.”

“Paranoia. Didn’t trust anyone to watch my back after we became L’Cie. I couldn’t bring myself to sleep. And... Later... I figured if I took watch, you all could sleep,” Lightning flexes her fingers.

A beat of silence passes between them, and he reaches out to clasp her shoulder and she jerks from his touch. “I’ll keep an eye on these for you,” he says and then stashes away the bottle.

“Right,” she says.

Both of them know what she really means, and she leaves with nothing more than a flash of red.

 

Snow, Lightning, and Sazh watch Fang, Vanille, and Hope move ahead. Snow and Lightning exchange a glance and Sazh sighs.

“That’s rough,” Snow murmurs. “Think they’ll be okay?”

“How would you feel if you came home to Bodhum to find it had been Purged and there were no survivors?” Lightning asks, voice quiet.

Snow flinches. “Right.”

Putting a hand on his shoulder, Sazh murmurs, “Gotta be strong. They’re gonna need it.”

Both of them nod, and the three of them move forward, deeper into the crystal-dust city. Fang and Vanille and Hope’s footprints along with the dead carcasses of felled Cie’th are the only things that reflect there’s even a little life here.

It’s hard to think that these Cie’th are all that’s left of Fang and Vanille’s family.

The footprints stop at a house, rusted with age, and the three exchange a glance and enter. “Bhakti!” they hear Vanille shriek, perhaps a little too cheerfully.

Fang’s laughter is raucous but forced. “Ah, there’s the damn robot.”

“Still jealous, Fang?” Vanille giggles.

“I think it’s broken,” Hope cuts in, “Can we fix it?”

Sazh and Lightning glance at each other. How can you fix something like this? The past can’t be changed, the present can’t either, and who knows what the future has in store? Will they end up like the Oerbans? Twisted Cie’th wandering paths covered in a fine layer of dust?

Vanille pauses; Snow winces; Fang says so quiet they almost can’t hear her, “Maybe if we find the right parts.”

Snow, Lightning, and Sazh go up the stairs to where the other three are, and Vanille grins at them, so bright it nearly burns. “See? I found my robot!”

“Well,” Lightning breaks the awkward pause, “Guess we’ll have to fix him.”

Fang flashes them a grateful expression from behind Vanille, and if her eyes are red around the rims, her eyes shining, no one says anything. Everyone has their grief, and returning to a broken home is something too terrible to comprehend.

At least Dajh and Serah still have a chance. The best Fang and Vanille’s family have to hope for is a swift, merciful death.

Lightning glances at Sazh and Snow, and then nods. She motions for Hope to follow them, and they leave the Oerbans to their quick mourning. For a long time, the four of them are silent until Hope asks, “Do you think they’ll be all right?”

There’s a pause, and Sazh winces, because he knows what Lightning will say.

“Yes,” Lightning says, and both Snow and Sazh look at her in surprise. “It’ll be all right.”

And the two men share a small smile. Truth be told, Sazh isn’t nearly as surprised by her kindness as he’d thought he’d be. After all, she tried to save them from watch. Why wouldn’t she try to protect Hope from what grief he hasn’t already experienced? That grief that comes when people you love hurt and you can’t do a damn thing.

Lightning glances at Sazh from the corner of her eye, and she gives a short nod; he flashes her a thumbs up.

 

“So, Claire, huh?” he asks, cleaning his guns.

She looks up from polishing her Lionheart. “Not anymore. Not again.”

And she turns back to her gunblade, like that’s the end of it.

“Why?” he asks, and she stills. “Why is it so important?”

Her hands return to their work, and she doesn’t so much as spare him a glance. Silence settles over them, tense, tight as a wound coil. Lightning is a tough one to crack, he knows that. Knows there are lots of things about her that nobody knows.

After a time, she looks at him, and then holds out her hand, expectant. With a sigh, he puts his guns aside, and gets one of her energy pills from her pack. She takes it and swallows it and he can’t help but shake his head. “Claire Farron,” she murmurs. “Seems like a lifetime ago.”

There’s resignation there. But, more importantly, it’s the windup of her story, and he’ll be one step closer to understanding her.

Lightning falls silent and looks back down at her gunblade, letting her hair hide her face; Sazh caps her energy pills and puts them back in his pack. “I was seven when my mother died. Fifteen when my father died. Serah was eleven.”

He waits. If he says anything, she’ll stop, and he’ll probably never hear what she has to say about her life.

“I had to look after us. Our parents left us money, but math was my best subject and I knew how finances worked...” she pauses, looks up. “I started working. Nights, mainly, so that I could be with Serah after school. I’d put her to bed, then go to work.”

Distracted, she runs her fingertips over the shining metal of the Lionheart and her foot taps impatiently.

“I lied about my age so the café would hire me. Funny enough, it was the same café Lebreau bought years later,” she shakes her head. “Started taking energy pills and sleeping through math class. For awhile, it worked. I could make ends meet, and maybe I was tired, but we were happy.”

Lightning glances at him, then glances away; Sazh frowns, thoughtful, and then tilts his head to the side.

— _His wife had always wanted to see Bodhum. There weren’t any beaches in Eden, and they finally had an opportunity to go._

 _He flew them there in his own airship; they laughed and sang all the way there. They got in late, the lights bright in the darkness. “You hungry?” he asked her, and she grinned, laughing._

 _“Always,” she said, and he laughed too._

 _It didn’t take long to find a little café on the beach side, near their motel. A pink-haired girl in a white-button up shirt, slacks, and black pumps seated them, smiling uncertainly at them._

 _There were dark circles beneath her eyes, and Elisabeth frowned._

 _“My name is Claire. I’ll be your server tonight.”_

 _She handed them menus and slid to another booth to take the orders of other customers. Elisabeth and Sazh exchanged a glance and then thumbed through the menu. Sazh grinned. “Hope you like fish,” he said, and they both smiled._

 _The girl came back some time later, took their orders, and was gone again._

 _They ate, paid, and left her a decent tip. Neither of them said what they were thinking. It really wasn’t any of their business._

 _But was the girl old enough to be working? So late?—_

“The year I graduated, we were robbed. Some desperate thugs from the next town over,” Lightning looks into the distance, eyes glassy. “I couldn’t do anything. We were lucky that—that they just wanted... If they had hurt Serah, I don’t—”

She stops and then stands. “We should get moving.”

And then she’s gone, the empty space where her words had been filling his ears. Chocobo warks softly, and Sazh murmurs, “Poor kid,” and then winces.

Because he should know better than to pity Lightning Farron, but there it is.

 

“This used to be my home,” he tells her off-handedly.

She makes a noise that indicates she’s listening, nothing more, as she slides her blade through the PSICOM soldier. “Pretty interesting place to grow up, depending on where you lived. Closer to the center, to the Sanctum, the safer you were. Me and my family did decent, but we lived near the Orphanage...”

“Ever talked to Snow about that?” she asks, firing off three shots in rapid succession. “He grew up in the Eden Orphanage.”

“Nope. Didn’t know,” he replies, and frowns, because how would she know?

Lightning gives him a sidelong glance. “He’s marrying my sister.”

Right. “Not a bad place to grow up, I suppose,” he shakes his head, and continues, “Main problem was PSICOM. Eden is their base of operations and in Eden, they have the run of the place.”

Her jaw tightens, and he winces, because it doesn’t take a genius to realize how Lightning feels about the military, even if it is PSICOM.

He shrugs. “Used to get so angry. Eventually, I learned to let it got, but I never lost that cynicism. Became a pilot because I liked guns and I liked the clouds. Guess I figured those things combined meant flying a ship.”

Sometimes, he can still feel that deep, pulsating anger, but most of the time, it's hardly an ember, without any smoke to cloud his vision.

He wonders, sometimes, if he had been younger when this happened, if he would have reacted like Lightning and Snow did.

“Best part of growing up in Eden was the food. We had these potatoes that we spiral cut into one long slice. Then, we put it on a stick and fried it up. We added some salt and...” He trails off, looking at the sky wistfully.

“Ice cream,” Lightning murmurs. “In Bodhum, it was ice cream.”

They fall silent, and focus on the fight, on the pump of adrenaline, and catching up with Fang and Snow, without leaving Vanille and Hope behind.

It’s a hard balance.

 

They’re resting after defeating Rosch (again) when she speaks. “I became Lightning when I went to Academy. Claire hadn’t been able to protect Serah. She didn’t deserve to exist.”

Her voice is so matter-of-fact it’s chilling. “Yeah?”

“I became Lightning to protect my sister,” she says, and it’s almost defensive.

“What about Light?” he asks, gently. “Why’d you become Light?”

She looks out across Eden, across this place that was his home. “I became Light to guide Hope.”

There’s a pause where both of them realize just how that sounds, and then he laughs and even Lightning snickers at herself. Lightning sighs a few moments later and then says, “I wasn’t the best sister. But I tried.”

Sazh stands and moves to her, then reaches out and puts a hand on her shoulder. “You did fine.”

And she nods, once, not looking at him, and there it is again, that silent _Thank You_. He grins and then pulls away, and gives her time. Finding yourself was never an easy thing, especially when the whole world is resting on your shoulders.

 

Right before they go to find Barthandelus, Lightning pulls him aside. The night before, everyone had said goodbye to whomever or whatever they had needed to, but Lightning stops him now, because she didn’t say anything to him then. When it was the time and place.

He waits.

“I...” her voice catches. None of them want to admit this could be it. “Thanks. For everything.”

And she doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t look at him again after that. The echo of her words stays longer than she does. But he thinks he understands. Vanille winks at him, and they keep moving.


	4. Chapter 4

Two months after Cocoon falls, she knocks on his door at two in the morning. He’d been about ready to go to sleep when he hears it. With a frown, he grabs a gun and then opens the door.

Lightning looks like shit. Her hands are shaking and she’s pale and her eyes are red. Sazh opens the door wider to let her in. Carefully, she steps in and then sits down on the makeshift couch, cradling her head.

“They’re getting back tomorrow,” Sazh reminds her gently.

“I know,” she murmurs, “That’s why I’m here. I can’t...”

He moves to her and places a hand on her shoulder. “You can stay.”

Lightning lowers her head and whispers, “I thought two weeks would be enough.”

“Dependency’s a hard thing,” he tells her and then sits down beside her. “How ya feeling?”

“As bad as I look,” she grumbles.

If he didn’t think she’d hit him for it, he’d laugh. Chocobo flies out from Dajh’s room down the hall and lands in her hair, warking. Carefully, Lightning reaches up and strokes his feathers, and then moves her hand back to her lap.

“Serah and Snow will want to know why you’re not there,” he says. “What should I tell them?”

She shakes her head. “I left them a note.”

“Yeah? What’s it say?”

“That I went out and I’ll be back in a few days,” Lightning smirks. “I thought I’d keep it simple.”

Chuckling, he shakes his head at her. “Well, that’s something at least. Has there been any improvement?”

“I’m getting there. I forgot how much I hate withdrawal,” she sighs, curling in on herself; he reaches over and rubs circles on her back.

“You can stay as long as it takes,” Sazh says. “We’ll tell Dajh you’re sick.”

Nodding, she murmurs, “It’s mostly the truth.”

“Get some rest,” he tells her.

Sazh stands and moves to grab her some blankets. As her eyes are drifting shut, he says, “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure nothing gets you while you’re sleeping.”

Her grin is, at once, wry and grateful.

 

Even Dajh knows who it is before they open the door. “Lightning!” he smiles. “Can I stay out here this time?”

Sazh sighs. “I’ll tell you when.”

With a huff, Dajh runs into his room and closes the door. Sazh opens the front door, and there’s Lightning, smeared in blood and still grinning.

“You should be more careful,” he says, and she merely shrugs, wincing.

Without another word, he lets her inside.

“It happens,” she murmurs while he goes to grab the medical supplies. “Someone has to look after the city. And no one knows Gran Pulse as well as we do.”

Sazh merely shakes his head—Snow has the same theory, but he doesn’t show up every day looking like he’s gone through a cheese grater. “Maybe. Your sister’s going to find out someday. You can’t hide it forever.”

Her expression hardens and she turns her head. “I know. I just... I don’t want her to worry.”

Deftly, he tosses her some bandages and a couple potions. She sets to patching herself up with grim determination and practiced efficiency.

“It almost makes me miss being a L’Cie,” she says and her lips twitch with amusement. “Healing made life easier.”

“You miss being a L’Cie? Or do you miss them?” he asks quietly.

Lightning goes still. It’s answer enough. “Lightning...”

“Don’t,” she snaps. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“So that’s it? You just going to run from what happened? They’re gone, Light. It’s hard, I know. I miss them too. But you can’t let it eat you. What would they say if—”

She’s on her feet now, face dark with anger. “ _Stop_. Don’t tell me what they would think. You don't know and I don’t care.”

“Dammit, Lightning,” he steps nearer. “You can’t just throw yourself into danger because you’re upset! We need you. Alive and not in pieces!”

“I’m not going to get myself killed. Trust me, won’t you?”

And he stops, because he’s never heard that word from her before. He meets her eyes, which are angry and sad both, and then he just shakes his head. “What else can I do, Lightning?” he lets out a sigh. “Can’t help you any other way.”

She averts her gaze and finishes patching herself up. Without another word passing between them, she leaves.

 

Hope reaches out and touches Lightning’s wrist. “You okay?”

With a frown tugging at her lips, Lightning looks at him. “Yeah,” she says, “It’s getting late.”

“Aw, Sis. You just got here,” Snow claps a hand on her shoulder.

Serah nods, her brows furrowed. “You’ve been quiet all week.”

Glancing at Lightning, who’s looking at Hope’s fingers on her wrist with an unreadable expression, Sazh cuts in, “Well, it is hard work to protect the city...”

Her gaze darts to him and there’s something like relief in her face. Hope releases her. “Would you tell us,” he stutters a little when she turns to him, “Would you tell us if something was wrong?”

It makes Serah laugh. “Of course not. She’s letting it eat her, whatever it is. Lightning...”

“I need to go,” she says, sharply.

She moves too fast for Snow to grab, too fast to see the hurt expression on Hope’s face, too fast to see Serah purse her lips and fold her arms, too fast to see Dajh look up at Sazh and ask, “Daddy? Why is she sad?”

“She misses them,” Sazh says, loud enough for everyone to hear and then a collective silence settles over them.

Hope gnaws on his lip, and Serah reaches over and squeezes his shoulder. “She gets like this sometimes...” her tone is light, “You just have to let her sort it out her way.”

With a frown, Snow asks, “There’s no way we can help her out?”

“No. She prefers to fight by herself.”

Serah pulls away from Hope and busies herself cleaning up the food Lightning didn’t eat. “Well, why are we standing around with long faces?” she asks them. “We’re celebrating!”

Somehow, celebrating the one-year anniversary of the end of the world and the loss of two of the greatest people to ever watch Gran Pulse seems wrong. Judging by how fast Lighting left, Sazh doubts he’s the only person who feels that way.

 

Sazh knocks on the door; he waits, and isn’t surprised when he gets a gunblade brandished in his face. “I think you hurt Serah’s feelings when you moved out,” he says lightly.

“I wasn’t going to live with my sister and her husband forever,” she says and lowers her weapon. “What do you want?”

“Maybe I just came to visit?” he suggests.

Both of her eyebrows shoot up. “Without Dajh?”

There’s a pause. Damn. It’s easy to forget sometimes just how sharp she is; Chocobo warks. “You gonna let me in?”

For a moment, she hesitates, examining him. All in all, she looks pretty good. Not like she hasn’t slept, not like she recently had the tar beaten out of her. He figures that’s something, if nothing else. Then, Lightning steps back and motions him inside with her gunblade.

“Hope’s worried. When was the last time you went to see him?” Sazh asks.

Her house is tiny, two rooms with shabby furniture. There’s a fireplace, a living area with one tiny threadbare couch, and a back room he assumes is the bedroom. “A few weeks ago,” Lightning says. “I’d go more often, but...” She stops and sheathes her gunblade.

With a sigh, he sits down on her couch. “But...?”

“Bartholomew,” she murmurs, and then ducks her face from his incredulous look.

“After everything,” Sazh asks, “You’re giving up? Because of one person’s...?”

Lightning looks at him. “Look. Bartholomew thinks I’m a bad influence, and, you know? Maybe he’s right. I’m not much of a role model. Hope has other things to focus on, like that school they’ve set up. I don’t want him to blow it because he wants to trail after me throwing his boomerang.”

“What’s gotten into you lately?” he asks.

“Did you really come all the way over to lecture me?” she demands, “Because if that’s the case, you can—”

All he does is fold his arms and wait, watching her. Her face is dark with anger (and he’s starting to wonder if it’s really anger, or if she’s flailing for emotions that won’t damn her, and anger is the easiest choice). “Sazh, I’m asking you to stay out of my business.”

Soldiers never do well with peace, or retirement. But she’s not retired, and this isn’t peace.

Heroes, though, heroes don’t deal well with loss. And her and Snow, they’ve taken the loss hard, like a bullet to the gut. They’re on their knees, bleeding out, and Snow copes with laughter and smiles and tries to be the man everyone expects him to be. But Lightning, Lightning’s not like that. Her coping is all sharp words, all violence and struggle.

“Not happening. You can’t let this destroy you,” Sazh says and then he stands.

She bows her head. “Sazh, things are different,” she says it like she believes it, and it’s true (but not for the reasons he’s positive she means), “We’re not L’CIe anymore, we’re not heroes. We’re just like everyone else and clinging to what was is pointless.”

“I know that. But they’re not coming back, Light. Not in our lifetimes, at least.”

She turns her back on him. “We’ve done the impossible once. Sazh—”

“Oh no,” Sazh says. “You stop right there. Get that crazy idea out of your crazy head. There’s nothing we can do, Lightning. Nothing we could have done. They made their choice. Now, grab your coat. You’re going to go visit Hope and let him know you haven’t abandoned him.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” she snaps, and twirls to face him.

Sazh shakes his head. “If you’re gonna act like a kid, I’m gonna treat you like one. Now scoot.”

And she hesitates, looking at him, face cold and unreadable. It’s easy to forget sometimes how much she changed over the journey, because the woman she became is someone he hasn’t seen much of for the past year and a half. The woman who stands before him now reminds him of who she was when they first met.

“Fine,” and she walks past him.

He nearly doesn’t turn in time to catch the keys she throws at him. “Lock up when you go,” she tells him, and then she’s gone.

Turning the keys over in his hand, Sazh grins—he knows what she means. _I’ll see you later_.

 

Three days later, she knocks on his door. Sazh stands up from the table. “Dajh, keep eating,” he says, and then goes to open it.

Lightning holds her hand out and he fishes in his pockets for her keys. “Hey, Light,” he asks, “How’d it go?”

“Hope’s getting bigger,” she says, folding her arms.

Sazh chuckles. “Yeah. Not surprising, though.”

Inside, Dajh waves at Lightning frantically, and Lightning relaxes just a little, unfolding her arms, the hard line of her mouth softening. There’s a beat, and she looks down at her hands. “Thanks. I—” she pauses. “It meant a lot to Hope.”

He almost laughs at her, but knows better. Saying thank you is hard enough for her as it is. “I have a favor to ask,” he says.

All she does is arch an eyebrow and wait. “Would you watch Dajh for me next week? I need to take a few days to help Snow and Maqui out with something. Some kinda new engine they’ve been building.”

“I’ll see you then,” she says, and takes her keys from him.

And she leaves.

 

When he gets back, it’s past three in the morning and he’s been gone two days longer than he said he would.

Quietly, he opens the door and can’t repress a grin. Lightning and Dajh are curled on the couch, fast asleep. Dajh is sprawled out, taking up two-thirds of the couch and covered in Lightning’s red cape instead of a blanket, and Lightning’s curled in the fetal position on the other third of the couch.

Sazh takes a step inside, and her eyes snap open, hand immediately jumping to the gunblade that’s on the floor. “Hey,” he murmurs and she relaxes.

“Hey,” she whispers.

Without disturbing Dajh, she stands and moves to Sazh. “He’s been good. A little rambunctious, but—”

“You let him play super hero, didn’t you?” he asks. “Never thought you’d let anyone else wear the cape. Did you have fun? Any trouble?”

“None. He was great.”

She almost smiles; he looks back at Dajh, clutching her cape in his sleep. “Thanks for watching him,” he says.

“It was my pleasure... Mind if I stay the night?” she asks.

Sazh raises an eyebrow. Lightning knows how to stay put? “Yeah,” he says, “Don’t wanna leave without your cape?”

Her cheeks flush. “I promised him I wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye.”

With a smile, he puts a hand on her shoulder and squeezes. “Thank you,” he says, “It’ll mean a lot to him. Come on, you can sleep in the guest bedroom.”

 

“How long you been a single father?” she asks, sitting beside him.

Serah and Snow are running up ahead with Dajh, laughing with that joy of newlyweds, and even Hope has caught the festive mood, laughing and running behind them. Sazh turns to Lightning.

“Since Dajh was three,” he says, quiet, “When my wife died.”

There’s a pause while she digests the new information and then she murmurs, “Must have been tough.”

“Yeah. Especially at the beginning. Dajh was upset, I was upset. We had to find a new rhythm, a new way to live,” Sazh says, gazing up at that hole in the sky where Cocoon used to be.

Lightning hesitates, and then reaches out a places her hand on his shoulder. It’s a brief touch, but she’s trying, and that’s something; he grins.

“According to the doctors, she died of some sorta rare virus,” Sazh shook his head. “But I don’t believe it. She was a lawyer and had just finished a case that didn’t exactly portray the Sanctum in the best light. And she only got sick after she went to a government dinner in Eden... There were just too many coincidences.”

Releasing a sigh, he looks at her. “What about you? What was it like, having to raise your little sister?”

“It was hard. I knew that if I made a mistake, my sister and I would be sent either to the Orphanage or through the foster system. I didn’t want that, for her or myself,” Lightning looks toward her laughing, running sister.

“And you pulled it off,” he reminds her gently. “You did all right, Light.”

She half-shurgs. “I left her alone a lot. At first, it was only at night, but when I joined the military...”

“You did all right,” he repeats, more firmly, and Chocobo warks his agreement.

“I...” she pauses, and then murmurs. “...Thanks.”

Sazh grins. “C’mon, Farron. We gonna let those kids show us up? Race ya!”

And he’s granted with one of her slow, small smiles and she nods and they take off in the direction of their family.


	5. Chapter 5

He’s just settled down to enjoy a night by himself when there's a knock on the door. Sazh hops up and all but runs to the door, and demands, “What happened? Is Dajh all right?”

Lightning leans in the doorjamb, smirking. “Worried Hope can’t handle Dajh for a night?” she asks. “Relax. They’ll be fine.”

Rueful, he reaches up and scratches the back on his head.

“Were you planning on sitting here all night? Or would you like to do some good in the world?” It’s only then he realizes that, in addition to her gunblade, she’s armed to the teeth.

If he weren’t so damn perceptive, he’d never notice the extra guns and knives and who knows what else stored on her person. And—he frowns. “Where’d you get a Mana Drive?”

“Threatened the military until I got my way.”

Ah. PSICOM and Cavalry and Guardian Corps had all joined together after Cocoon fell in order to better protect the populous. Frankly, he still doesn’t trust them; but, then again, no one really trusts them, the former Pulse L'Cie. But the people need them. Lightning and Snow's knowledge of Gran Pulse's beasties, and Hope's knowledge of plants and herbs, and Sazh's skill with machinery. People need them, but trust still seems a far off dream.

But people’s memories are long. He wonders if they’ll ever be seen as anything other than former Pulse L’Cie.

Lightning shifts her weight from one foot to the other. “There’s been reports of raiding bands in the outskirts of Haven. From what I’ve heard, they used to be some kind of gang in Palumpolem. Hope says they’ll probably grow bolder the longer we wait,” her mouth twitches in the corners. “Snow and I are going to pay them a visit. You want to tag along?”

“Hang on while I grab a few things,” he says with a grin.

Within twenty minutes, he’s ready to go, and both Lightning and Snow are waiting for him.

Snow flashes his trademark grin and rests his fist in the palm of his other hand; Lightning puts a hand on her hip and smirks. “Ready?” asks Snow.

“Yeah.”

 

They find the raiders on the edge of the city. “Hey,” Snow flashes a crooked grin. “Know who we are?”

A woman narrows her eyes, hand jumping to the holster at her hip. “L’Cie.”

“Formerly,” Lightning says, clipped.

“Well, boys,” the woman grins at Snow. “Looks like we best give ourselves up nice and easy, huh?”

There’s laughter and the sound of weapons being unsheathed or unholstered. Sazh’s hands twitch. “I hoped you’d say something like that,” Lightning says, and her and Snow share a grin.

It’s always interesting to watch Lightning and Snow fight. They move up ahead, Lightning all speed and Snow all promise of power. She’s in the lead, gunblade flashing, and Snow’s a few steps behind, his entire body thrumming with energy.

They connect with the enemy—a group of men and women armed mostly with guns and spluttering energy weapons—at almost the same instant.

Sazh fires off a few shots, killing one and bringing another one down.

Others fall beneath the combined might of Lightning and Snow, moving together in synchronization. It’s funny—now that they’ve gotten over their problems, they fight together with perfect precision; watching, Sazh can’t help but smile.

Since the beginning, they’ve come so far.

Lightning dives and rolls and Snow takes out the man about to slice her with a sword sparking with the dying power of a fire mana drive. She back flips and shoots the woman behind him with a gun.

Quickly, Sazh dispatches a man about to slash Lightning with a sputtering lightning axe.

It really doesn’t take long to deal with the rest. When it’s over, Lightning pulls a cloth from her thigh pack and wipes the blood from her blade. “Well, I don’t think they’ll be a problem anymore,” Snow grins at her, “Thanks, Sazh. I forgot how much easier it is when there’s more than two of us.”

“No problem,” he grins, and carefully puts his guns back into their holsters.

“Want to celebrate?” Lightning asks suddenly, looking up at the sky. “We have some time to kill before Serah or Hope expect you two.”

There’s a pause and Snow tilts his head to the side. “Almost can’t believe you’re suggesting we socialize, Sis,” he teases.

She snorts inelegantly and cuffs his shoulder. Her face is relaxed, threatening to smile, and Snow’s openly laughing, and Sazh can’t help but grin. Times like these, it’s easy to remember that they’re a family and easy to forget what they’ve lost.

 

There’s a cute restaurant in Haven that mostly serves stews. People are still learning how to cook here on Gran Pulse, but it tastes okay and it’s not as expensive as the places that serve mostly meat.

Lightning, Snow, and Sazh pile into a booth and are given clay cups of water. People shoot glances at them, sometimes in panic, other times with something like anger, and sometimes just in surprise. By now, the three of them have learned to ignore it.

The three of them order a bowl of stew each and Snow grins at Lightning suddenly. “So, Light,” he pauses to eat a bite of stew. “Tell us about the belly button piercing.”

“No.”

Sazh takes a sip of his drink and can’t help the smile. “Embarrassed?” he asks.

“No,” she shifts, flushing.

Snow nudges her, grin widening. “C’mon, Sis,” he meets her glare. “Was it a dare? Or were you just a rebellious teenager?”

She shakes her head and takes a sip of her water. “No,” she says, more firmly.

“Scared we’ll laugh?” Sazh asks with a grin.

“No,” she says with a sigh and then shakes her head. “It was after my first Guardian Corps mission. Got drunk with a couple of soldiers... And one thing led to another.”

For a moment, both of them look at her, and then Snow’s grin gets even wider and Sazh snorts. “Can’t imagine you drunk,” Sazh says.

“I was young and stupid,” says Lightning, shifting in her seat.

“Weren’t we all,” Sazh mutters. “There more to the story?”

There’s another pause; Lightning drains her water. “It was the first time I killed someone.”

Another pause. Snow claps her on the back. “First time I killed a guy, I spent the rest of the night crying and puking. Gadot still hasn’t let me live it down.” He nods at Sazh. “What about you?”

“I laughed so hard I couldn’t stop. My sister found me and took me home.”

Sazh gives a half-shrug. At the same moment, both Snow and Lightning look at him sharply. “You have a sister?” Snow asks.

Her eyebrow arches. “Yeah. I had a sister,” Sazh looks into his cup and swishes the water around. “She died right before I left Eden. Got real sick and...”

“You grew up in Eden, too?” Snow asks, surprise flitting across his face.

Sazh releases a sigh. “Yeah. Near the Orphanage.”

Glancing between the two, Lightning reaches out and briefly touches Snow’s shoulder. “Snow,” she reminds him, “We’re celebrating.”

“Right,” he says, then polishes off his stew.

With a grin, Sazh nods at Lightning, whose mouth turns upwards at the corners. “Nice to see the two of you gettin’ along so well.”

Laughing, Snow reaches out and ruffles Lightning’s hair; she glares and Snow laughs harder.

“Just like a couple of kids,” Sazh says. “How’s Serah?”

A goofy smile crosses Snow’s face. “She’s great. She’s been going with those scientists to figure out more about the Oerbans and how they lived. That’s Serah, though. She’s just—so smart, y'know?”

Beside him, Lightning looks at him and a smile slowly forms.

Times like these, Sazh realizes just how far they’ve all come.

 

Sazh shifts the container under his arms and knocks on Lightning’s door.

“Up here,” Lightning calls.

Frowning, he looks up and he can just barely make out her form on the roof. “What are you doin’ up there?”

“Tanning,” she deadpans and then stands. “Thinking, actually.”

She jumps and lands with a roll and then springs to her feet. “Here, it’s a bit of cake. Dajh is spending the night at Snow and Serah’s and I made it for them. Dajh wanted you to have a slice.”

For a moment, she blinks at him and then she nods. “Thanks,” she pauses. “Tell Dajh I said thanks.”

“Will do.”

He hands it to her and she takes it. There’s another long pause and Lightning turns away from him, looking off in the direction where the crystallized Cocoon looms in the distance.

“What were you thinking about?”

Uncomfortably, she shifts. “I’m going to put this inside. Is there anything else you wanted?”

“Lightning,” he reaches out and catches her shoulder. “Light. You’ve got to let go. I know it’s not easy, but...”

She pulls back. “If there’s something we can do, anything we can try—”

“There’s nothing, Lightning. We’ve got to focus on living now, helpin’ people adjust. You’re a leader, Lightning. We need you here, not off on some wild goose chase.”

For a moment, she looks down at the container of cake in her hands, then she looks back at him. “I can't abandon them, Sazh.”

Sazh shakes his head and releases a heavy sigh. Sometimes, he feels his age.  At his sides, his fingers twitch and he turns towards the fallen Cocoon, and a part of him can’t help but wonder if maybe there is a way. “Just... Don’t do anything stupid. Can you promise me that?”

“I can try,” she says.

“Alright,” Sazh closes his eyes for an instant. “Gotta run. Hope needed help with some mechanical project or another. Take care of yourself.”

“Yeah. You too.”

 

The knock on his door is loud, frantic, and it startles him awake. Sazh gets off the couch and staggers to the door, trying to blink himself into wakefulness. “Sazh,” Hope says after the door’s opened. “I can’t find Lightning. She was supposed to visit me last week and she never showed up. I finally tried her house, and it’s totally cleaned out except for the furniture.”

Somehow, Sazh can’t bring himself to feel surprised. “Sazh?” Hope asks.

“You wanna go find her?” asks Sazh through a yawn.

Hope looks at him for a second. “Yeah...” he pauses. “You know where she went?”

“I have an idea. We’ll asks Serah and Snow if they’ll take care of Dajh,” Sazh murmurs.

Frowning, Hope asks, “What will we tell them?”

“That we have some business in Haven,” he says with a shrug. “C’mon, help me grab supplies.”

Hope steps inside, and hurriedly follows him to the kitchen. “Where do you think she went?”

For a moment, Sazh doesn’t say anything, just surveys the supply of food he’s got in his cupboards. And he says:

 

“I think she went to bring Fang and Vanille back.”

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Depend on Me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/362537) by [owlmoose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlmoose/pseuds/owlmoose)




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